


Symbiosis

by heathenpesticide



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Aftercare, Caning, Crying, Dubious Consent, Figging, Gags, M/M, Needle play, Ocelot is a polite dom, Restraints, Rough Sex, Surprisingly Good BDSM Etiquette, Whipping, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:09:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7426921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathenpesticide/pseuds/heathenpesticide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're not friends. But they need to get used to coexisting.</p>
<p>A glimpse at what Revolver Ocelot and Kazuhira Miller got up to while the Snakes were sleeping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symbiosis

"Those come off, too."

Ocelot's tone is clipped, and he wears a neutral expression as Kaz stands before him, naked save for his aviators. Kaz's muscles tense imperceptibly, his breath catching in his throat with fleeting reluctance. He's never had any qualms about nakedness – with this body? _Please_ \- but sometimes it's easy to forget exactly how much he's come to rely on this one trivial accessory, his only protection from revealing his emotions, always giving him that one small illusion of dominance. Taking them off – especially in the presence of Ocelot - always makes him feel more vulnerable than being stripped naked and put on display.

With a shuddering breath and a trembling hand, Kaz slides the sunglasses from his face and places them in Ocelot's offered palm, who carefully folds them and slips them into his pocket. Kaz doesn't realize he's been pointedly staring down at the floor until he feels the soft leather end of a riding crop nudging beneath his chin, forcing his face upward.

"Eyes on me," Ocelot instructs. His tone is even and calculated, neither gentle nor harsh. Slightly detached, but not particularly cold. _Clinical_. He tilts his chin up as his eyes sweep over Kaz's body, the corners of his mouth twitching as he nods slightly. _Appraising_ him.

Kaz draws a deep breath, straightens his back a little, subconsciously rolls his shoulders back and sets his jaw. Forces his unguarded eyes to meet Ocelot's, drawing strength from the pride he has in his physique. Sometimes he felt this was all he had going for him, drawing too much of his self-worth from his looks. Ocelot does this to him every time, makes him feel particularly scrutinized, draws it out to build up that agonizing feeling of uncertainty. He's taken most of his cues from his talents in torture, and it translates pretty well.

Kaz is relieved when Ocelot's eyes stray from his again and wander down the length of his body, the tongue of the riding crop following the direction of his gaze. Ocelot drags the leather down the line of Kaz's throat, sweeps it along the length of his collarbone, then grazes it teasingly over his nipple, causing a delicious shudder to undulate through his body, his eyes momentarily fluttering shut as a soft gasp escapes him. His cock is already uncomfortably hard and they haven't even started yet.

"Clasp your hands behind your neck," Ocelot orders, and Kaz fluidly complies.

Normally any command, any request, even so much as a suggestion from Ocelot would earn a scoff and a frown, but this is different. This is merely an arrangement they've built out of necessity. They're not friends. They're not even really colleagues. Forced together under desperate circumstances, their alliance is more of an inconvenient obligation. With nothing but radio silence from Zero on Snake's condition or whereabouts, Kaz had compulsively fucked his way through the locals in every country where the contracts took him until finally business forced him to unite with Ocelot.

They'd circled around each other with the wariness of two predators encroaching on unclaimed territory, sizing each other up in palpable distrust and a tense power struggle that constantly threatened to break the surface and come to an ugly head, though neither of them wanted to be the first to crack for fear of showing any sign of emotional weakness. It was one of those situations that could have been mitigated by a good fistfight, but their shared arrogance and carefully composed facades of indifference toward one another ensured that it would likely never happen.

Until one day – _one day_ – money was spread thin, recruits spread even thinner, the contracts coming in were making it more and more difficult for Kaz to not hate himself, and no matter what he did, he just couldn't make the numbers in his ledgers line up the way he needed them to. To top it all off, Ocelot with his goddamned holier-than-thou attitude and patronizing answers to his questions finally caused that waning bit of resolve within him to finally snap.

Kaz had already been trying his best to ignore him lingering about in his office unnecessarily, scowling down at his briefing files as he scribbled notes and punched at his calculator while Ocelot snooped the various books and items on the shelves, making it a point to physically inspect every object in the office like a goddamn toddler grasping at crayons. After seemingly intentionally returning a third object to the wrong spot, Kaz very firmly set his pencil down and leaned back in his chair with an audible huff, ensuring Ocelot could feel the caustic glare at his back.

"Where is Snake?" Kaz challenged softly, one of dozens of times he'd asked the question since they'd met.

Kaz never really expected an answer – but master manipulator though he was, even Ocelot had the slightest of tells, and whenever Kaz sprung the question in unexpected moments, that carefully constructed veneer of stoicism in which Ocelot liked to shroud himself withered away little by little each time. Keep chipping away at him, and eventually he'd let something slip. Seeing his back stiffen at the question was rewarding enough, but when Ocelot slowly turned and approached the desk, lofty shit-eating grin firmly in place as he quipped some snide comment about Zero's lack of trust in some Japanese _war whore_ – that was about when Kaz finally lost it.

He didn't really react at first – instead growing disturbingly calm, eyes glazing over as the world slowed to a stop around him. He had become so overwhelmed with blinding white rage that his mind blanked for a moment, nostrils flaring as he drew a slow, deep breath and clenched his teeth in a dizzying attempt just to see straight.

Ocelot must have known something was wrong, because that perpetual haughty smirk he always wore when addressing Kaz went immediately slack, mouth opening just slightly in what might have been a preamble to apology if he hadn't instantly realized how disingenuous it would have sounded coming from him. Kaz just sat there for a moment, stonewalling him from behind the shield of his aviators, chest heaving just slightly with slow, labored breaths, and then he very calmly stood and circled around the desk that separated them.

Ocelot swiveled on his heel as Kaz orbited around him, but Kaz clamped a fist down on his shoulder and whirled him back around. In the next instant, Kaz's hand was closing tightly around the back of Ocelot's neck, forcefully bending him over the desk and pinning him there as his other hand reached around to begin unfastening his belt. Cheek pressed painfully against the hard surface, Ocelot screwed his eyes shut and clenched his fists against the desk, feeling cool air touch his exposed skin as his pants were yanked down, then there was the muted metallic shred of a zipper as Kaz's boot kicked his feet farther apart.

"What, nothing to say now, _Adamska_?" Kaz growled, and Ocelot kept silent as he tried to regulate his breathing, concentrating on heavy, sharp breaths in an attempt to steel himself for the inevitable. He didn't expect Kaz to be merciful enough to prep him, though to his surprise, he heard the unmistakable rip of a condom wrapper, and he didn't have time to puzzle at this foresight before Kaz's sheathed erection was nudging against his ass.

"Can never be too careful," Kaz deadpanned. "I can only imagine what kind of a slut you must have been in the GRU. Tell me, what did you let the Ocelot Unit do to you? Or the _Colonel_?"

His initial instinct was to reply with _Look who's talking_ , but he wisely decided against it. Better to not make things worse for himself, and he knew Kaz already had every intention of making it hurt. Even more vexing was how his own cock jumped traitorously at the insistent press of Kaz's erection against his ass, and it took every bit of his resolve to just keep his hips still. Maybe he distantly relished that lack of control or agency, maybe it _did_ remind him a little of his time with the colonel, or hell, even Big Boss himself. There was that familiar tightening of anticipation in the pit of his belly as Kaz's hand possessively smoothed over his ass and roughly spread his cheeks, then that initial blinding pain as Kaz's cock breached his opening, and all he could do was close his eyes and try to relax.

It was painful, quick, rough, and _fuck it_ , a little exciting. He didn't even try to stifle his yelps as Kaz rapidly slammed into him. _Christ_ it hurt, like he was being split in half from the inside out, and despite his best efforts, his eyes started to water from the pain. There would be no hiding the tear stains on the various documents pressed beneath his face, and he could only hope the ink wouldn't run, because something told him Kaz would find some way to punish him for that, too.

When it was over, Kaz didn't say a word, merely yanked out of him, snapped the condom off and tossed it in the waste bin, then zipped himself up and left, leaving Ocelot still bent over the desk to fend for himself. His own cock had betrayed him halfway through and spilled messily over his pants, and it would be a challenge to conceal the stains on his way to fetch a clean change of clothes.

He'd stayed there for a long moment, drawing slow, heavy breaths and groaning as his fingers clawed feebly at the surface of the desk, waiting for the throbbing ache within him to subside, then finally hoisted himself upright with an agonized moan and eased his pants back up. Sitting down would definitely be out of the question for the next couple of days, and as much as he wanted to be angry, indignant, petulant – a part of him was a little impressed, because he really didn't think the commander had it in him.

Of course, he _could have_ defended himself, really _could have_ put up a fight if he'd wanted to. He had the opportunity. Not once did he protest or beg, and while he wanted to tell himself it was out of a sense of pride or fear or shame, it was quite clear that none of those things were true. And Christ, yeah, it was a little cathartic. So exhilarating he felt like he'd been drugged, and when he'd finally come down from it, his head had never been clearer.

And so what was originally an isolated incident became habit.

It wasn't like they'd planned it that way. Where Ocelot had assumed Kaz would react toward him with shame or avoidance after the incident, instead the commander was just as glacial and formal as ever, as though nothing had ever happened. And yeah, it stung a little. He wasn't looking for an apology. He certainly wasn't looking for admiration or even approval. Mere _acknowledgement_ for his endurance would have sufficed, really. He figured allowing Kaz to let out his aggression in such an uncharacteristically savage manner would have at least earned him the respect he felt he had earned.

And fuck it, a part of him wanted it to happen again.

So much so that he found himself candidly pushing Kaz's buttons, picking out all of the things that he knew specifically set the man on edge in the hope that it would push him to that extreme again.

Though Kaz had turned out to be impressively more perceptive than he'd thought, and saw right through his tactics from the very start. Kaz merely regarded him over the rims of his sunglasses with a look of distant boredom and a half-hearted roll of his eyes at the transparent provocation, then idly returned to rifling through his invoices.

"So it's like that, hmm?" Kaz muttered after a prolonged silence. "You really have no sense of guile, do you _Adamska_?"

Kaz fell silent for another long moment, pretending he didn't hear Ocelot's responding petulant scoff, then finally straightened his documents and tucked them into a folder before rising from his seat and slowly circling around him. Ocelot didn't dare turn around this time, only allowed the barely perceptible tensing of his muscles as he felt the heat of Kaz's proximity at his back.

"Typically I'd pretend not to notice what you're doing right now," Kaz said softly, and something about the low, husky nature of his voice made Ocelot swallow thickly. "I'd make you dance for it…perhaps even humiliate yourself a little in your desperation so you'd rightfully earn what you're begging me for right now, because I don't think you deserve to be rewarded so quickly."

Ocelot's heart quickened and he closed his eyes at the heat of Kaz's breath on his neck, then stiffened at the sound of Kaz's zipper being undone.

"But I'm not that patient. … _Bend over_."

The roughness, he could handle. He could take being pounded until he literally felt bruised on the inside. Though he'd never admit to being a little hurt by the fact that Kaz used protection every time. Here was a man whose sexual exploits preceded him, and he apparently found Ocelot to be such a liability that he paused to take this extra precaution in the midst of what was otherwise a violent display of power and hatred. He couldn't help but wonder if it was another subtle way for Kaz to make him feel dirty and objectified, _dehumanized_ even, and he hated to think that it was actually working a little, and it was sickeningly invigorating. But there was some order to their routine, a welcome respite from what was otherwise an unstable relationship at best.

But the day Kaz strode in unannounced with a riding crop was when Ocelot drew the line.

Narrowing his eyes and gazing up at him with heated annoyance, Ocelot pursed his lips and shook his head. "Now Miller, I have let you – "

"It's not for you," Kaz said abruptly. Ocelot couldn't see his eyes, but could practically hear him rolling them from the tone of his voice.

Petty though it may have been, the prospect of beating the shit out of Kazuhira Miller invoked a delicious twinge of anticipation in his chest. It certainly had been a long time coming. He'd been immediately suspicious, aware that there had to be some kind of catch, but it also wasn't lost on him that Kaz likely had some arrangement with Big Boss that their own routine was lacking.

As it turned out, it was getting difficult for Kaz to get it up without a sound spanking first - a concept that wasn't entirely alien to Ocelot, who secretly harbored at least a shred of sympathy in that regard. It was a legitimate request on Kaz's part, the only condition being " _If I safeword, you'd better fucking heed it_." Ocelot even had a special room on the platform outfitted for these very occasions, he and Kaz holding the only two keycards that opened the door.

It's become an agreeable arrangement, where all genuine hostility between them is pushed aside. Letting go in a controlled environment in the midst of so much instability, it's a therapeutic habit they've fallen into where they both share a very specific purpose, and one of the only situations in which they have a very mutual understanding of one another.

 

Kaz shudders again as the tongue of the riding crop licks over his other nipple, the taut flesh still vaguely tender from their last encounter.

Ocelot had blindfolded and restrained him on his back, then methodically stuck him with needles until his body was pushed to its limit. It had been a profound experience for Kaz, the sharp aroma of antiseptic and the localized discomfort of each needle stick overwhelming sensations in his blindfolded state.

It was oddly relaxing, the firm touch of latex-gloved hands pinching his flesh, then the double prick of a needle pushing through him, one by one until his chest and stomach were tingling with an electrified throbbing at each puncture spot. Ocelot had remained eerily silent through the whole thing, and when Kaz's flesh grew cool to the touch and his muscles began to involuntarily twitch, Ocelot immediately stopped, promptly released Kaz from the blindfold and restraints, then delicately pulled the needles one by one from his flesh, silently dabbing at the pinpricks and rivulets of blood with a pad of gauze.

Panting and trembling, Kaz had watched in detached silence as each needle was dropped into a disposal container, hypnotized by the precise, careful nature of Ocelot's movements. It was too familiar, too...too _delicate_. Too much like _before_. Too much like -

_Gentle, gloved hands stitching him closed, a laceration inflicted by Snake during training, soft eyes too expressive for their own good, glancing coyly up from those impeccable, practiced sutures_ _and boldly meeting his eyes_ -

_No, it's time to move on, he's dead, Ocelot confirmed it -_

By the time the last needle was pulled out, Kaz was shaking uncontrollably, chest heaving erratically with each panicked breath. Ocelot cursed under his breath and snapped the latex gloves from his hands, then hauled Kaz into a sitting position, firmly cupping his jaw in one hand and pushing the hair back from his forehead with the other.

"Miller, _focus_ ," he said sternly, placing his thumb on Kaz's brow to pull one eye open, closely inspecting his pupils. Kaz gave a violent shudder, panting shallowly in an attempt to catch his breath.

"Jesus, Miller," Ocelot growled, stepping away to procure a blanket and returning to drape it around Kaz's shoulders. " _Why didn't you safeword?_ " he asked sharply, his tone an even mix of impatience and mild concern as he placed his hands on either side of Kaz's face, tugging at the flesh beneath his eyes with his thumbs to force him to focus.

"I was…enjoying it…I don't - know - why – " he gasped, but couldn't find the strength to finish the sentence. He made a feeble attempt to push up from the table but stumbled on weak knees, his hand flying out to clutch desperately at Ocelot's forearm to keep from falling.

Straining slightly to hold up the sturdier man, Ocelot balked at this uncharacteristic display of helplessness – not out of an aversion to weakness, but more at a loss for what to do. Their relationship had always been a tentative one, and he could never be certain on what might be an egregious breach of boundaries that would only exacerbate Kaz's hostility toward him – and they desperately needed to maintain at least a rudimentary working relationship. He certainly had no desire to show outright affection for the man, as disingenuous and unwarranted as that would seem, and Kaz would definitely reject it. But Ocelot had never seen him break before, and it was as alarming as it was puzzling. Kaz must have felt humiliated, and under some vague sense of obligation to him, in the most detached manner possible, Ocelot cautiously drew his arms around him as Kaz weakly pitched forward into his chest.

"Sometimes the mind and body have different ideas on what our limits are," Ocelot muttered, then carefully guided Kaz to the bed in the corner and eased him onto it, impassively holding onto him until his breathing returned to normal.

It was more a gesture of necessity rather than affection, and Ocelot maintained a respectful silence until Kaz calmed. And fuck it, maybe it felt good. Maybe Ocelot hadn't had any kind of genuine affection in years. He'd no love lost for this man, but there's no denying that occasional basic human need to _hold someone_ and _be held_ , and he wasn't lost on the importance of taking what one could get. And Kaz's convenient immediacy, with his stupid goddamned soft skin and docile manner in that one small moment - it was…fleetingly pleasant.

Being that close to someone, skin pressed together, heat trapped between bodies, it doesn't matter how much you've convinced yourself you hate the person, it's difficult to not act on the instinct for affection. _No kissing, no nuzzling, no caressing, no petting_ were Kaz's ground rules for aftercare, his voice icy and conveying a note of unwavering finality as he said it. _You may hold me and nothing more_. They were agreeable terms, but every once in a while Ocelot caught himself on autopilot, heedlessly brushing parted lips over Kaz's cheekbone, his forehead, the tip of his nose grazing through his hair, and it was always mildly frustrating, having to make a conscious effort to stop himself.

After an extended silence, Ocelot eased him back against the pillows and offered him a sedative to help him relax. Kaz instinctively shrank away from the needle at first, scrambling to the far edge of the bed and blushing furiously in shame as Ocelot maintained a firm but gentle grip on his arm to hold him in place in order to safely inject him. Kaz just watched the needle sink into his arm with bleary eyes, made something akin to a whimper in the back of his throat when the cold fluid entered his veins, focused a little too intently on the little bead of blood that welled up as the needle was withdrawn.

Just as the drugs began to pull him under, in a sudden flash of heated determination, Kaz gripped Ocelot's forearm before he could leave. "Don't you dare tell anyone about this," he hissed, then fell feebly against the pillows as he lost consciousness.

As if there were anyone worth telling. As if Ocelot didn't feel the slightest bit possessive about their arrangement, wanting to keep it just between them because something about it being secret made it feel more dangerous, more...his own.

Looking at the vestiges of his former handiwork now, he feels a little pleased with himself. An intricate pattern of pinprick dots form a flowing design down Kaz's torso, and Ocelot can't help but consider himself an artist.

"Beautiful," he whispers, tracing the designs with the end of the riding crop.

Kaz inhales deeply through his nose, electrified shudders spiraling down his body as the leather rubs over tender flesh. It makes a tantalizing circle around his nipple, licks down the line of his chest, follows the curvature of the dozens of healing puncture marks in his skin and traces the sculpted lines of his stomach. When the soft leather drags teasingly along the length of his cock, it's all he can do to keep from twitching, forcing himself to hold still and not make a sound.

"Ready for me so soon?" Ocelot murmurs distantly, and a muted moan dies in Kaz's throat when the tongue of the riding crop licks along the underside of his balls.

"Please," Kaz whispers, then quickly clamps his mouth shut and closes his eyes in regret as he realizes he's spoken without permission.

Ocelot purses his lips and immediately withdraws the riding crop, sharply indicating toward the floor with it. "Knees," he says curtly.

Kaz immediately complies, keeping his hands clasped behind his neck as he gracefully sinks to one knee, the other finding purchase on the floor a second later. Ocelot circles around behind him, and Kaz keeps his back straight, attempts to still his trembling muscles as he keeps his eyes straight ahead. He feels the end of the riding crop dragging down his spine, nudging along the cleft of his ass, brushing down the inside of his thigh and giving the sensitive skin there a firm tap.

"Spread your legs a little wider."

Kaz shifts, inching his knees farther apart as Ocelot presses the crop to the inside of his thigh to guide him, giving him another firm tap when he's satisfied.

"Nervous?" Ocelot asks.

Kaz shakes his head once. "No," he answers, then stiffens with a sharp intake of breath when the riding crop suddenly splits smartly across his ass, leaving a stinging heat in its wake.

"No _what_?"

"No sir," Kaz breathes.

Ocelots sniffs haughtily behind him. "You're shaking," he points out.

Kaz's hips twitch as a delightful tingling sensation spreads out from the place where Ocelot struck him. He slightly opens his mouth to answer, but closes it again. He's only to speak when asked a direct question.

"Are you warm enough?" Ocelot asks.

The riding crop continues a slow journey up and down the inside of his thighs, teasing him, the leather brushes just slightly against his perineum and he has to swallow a groan.

"Yes sir," he gasps.

The touch of leather withdraws again and suddenly there's a sharp pain in his scalp as Ocelot grips a fistful of his hair, gently tugging on it so that his face is forced upward. Ocelot's tucked the riding crop beneath his arm and uses his free hand to run his gloved thumb up the slender line of Kaz's throat, and Kaz obediently maintains eye contact, awaiting instruction.

"Excitement, then?" Ocelot muses.

"Yes sir."

"Mmm," Ocelot hums, a faint smile lighting his lips. He releases his grip on Kaz's hair, tenderly running his fingers through it as he allows his head to fall forward again. "So obedient…you enjoy when I punish you, don't you?" he asks softly, smoothing his hand over Kaz's hair as though stroking a favored pet.

Kaz makes a small sound in the back of his throat that almost sounds like a whimper, brows knitting together as he hangs his head. "Yes sir," he whispers.

He fixates on Ocelot's boots as they circle back in front of him, the tongue of the riding crop nudging beneath his chin again to force his face back up. Ocelot kneels down and gently brushes his gloved thumb over Kaz's cheekbone, his face flushing deeper at the unusually soft touch.

"What a healthy blush to your cheeks…do you think we can get your bottom the same color?"

Kaz's eyes flutter shut and he moans in response, the muscles in his thighs straining against the urge to flex his hips. Ocelot straightens and reaches above them for a pair of suspension cuffs hanging from the ceiling, and Kaz allows himself to be manipulated into position as Ocelot delicately takes each of his wrists and secures them above his head. He relaxes the muscles in his back a little, allowing the restraints to support his weight. He keeps his eyes straight ahead as Ocelot circles back behind him, giving another shudder when he feels the leather caressing over his backside.

The first strike is unexpected and swift, making a gratifying crack that echoes across the room. He doesn't have time to register the sting before three more successive blows land in exactly the same spot, his cock twitching at the delightful heat that radiates outward from each blow.

He squirms slightly against the restraints, arching his back and moaning in time with each snap of the crop against his tender flesh. Ocelot times them unevenly, making each strike unpredictable enough to make Kaz's muscles jump. He arches his back even more, pushing his ass out in silent request for more, and Ocelot immediately stops, his condescending chuckle resounding across the room.

"Who's the slut now?" he teases, running the leather up Kaz's spine so that his body bows in response. "Have you had enough?"

"No sir," Kaz answers, a little too quickly.

A swift crack of the crop lands firmly across the backs of his thighs, followed by several more rebuking blows across the already blazing flesh of his backside, covering every inch of flesh in red welts. The sounds coming out of Kaz are halfway between pleasured groans and agonized whimpers as the heat spreads, and he bites down on his lip to keep from smiling. It will take a lot more than that to cause him serious pain, and Ocelot knows it.

"Stop squirming," Ocelot commands sharply. "You will receive pleasure _when I decide to give it_."

Kaz exhales a ragged breath and forces his writhing body to still. The leather of the crop taps teasingly at his stinging backside, just harmless prodding to stimulate the blood flow to ensure the skin isn't broken, but Kaz's muscles twitch involuntarily beneath each soft swat.

He hisses between his teeth when another sharp crack resounds across the backs of his thighs, and soon they're burning just as much as his bottom. He hears Ocelot give an approving hum, cringing as the leather tongue drags over raw flesh. Then there's a shift in the air behind him and Ocelot's gloved hand is kneading his ass cheek, admiring the marks he's made, his touch pleasantly soothing as his thumb lightly grazes over the tender heat blossoming over Kaz's reddened skin.

"This is a good color on you," Ocelot approves.

It's stupid, but Kaz feels his chest swell at the praise, flexes his hips in a shameless display of needy desperation. He wants more. He wants to wince every time he sits down for the next couple of days. His cock jumps as Ocelot cups his ass in his palm, giving him a couple of firm but harmless slaps to keep his backside warm, then straightens and moves just outside of his field of vision to retrieve something from the table laid out with the supplies he's procured for the day.

"We're going to try something new today," Ocelot says, and Kaz's pulse quickens when he sees the flash of a blade glinting in the dim light of the room.

Knifeplay? Kaz is no stranger to it, even rather enjoys it, but he isn't sure he trusts Ocelot enough to not kill him. But it seems Ocelot has no intention of using it on him, merely starts carving something with the blade instead, then absently turns and approaches him again, still occupied with shaping the object.

"Do you know what figging is?" he asks idly, and Kaz's mind races, it sounds familiar but he can't quite remember what it is.

Then the spiced aroma of ginger hits his nostrils, and he becomes distantly aware of what's about to happen to him.

He answers with something between a groan and a whimper, slowly closing his eyes and wincing. He twitches against his binds, squirming uncertainly in his restraints so that the buckles clink musically together with the disturbance. The aroma of the ginger grows sharper, the shavings landing softly on the floor next to him as Ocelot continues shaping it, and then the tip of the peeled root is at his lips, his nostrils flaring at the sharp fragrance invading his senses.

"Open and suck," Ocelot orders, and Kaz reflexively complies.

There's a subtle heat on his tongue as he moistens the root in his mouth, but it isn't unpleasant. The root vaguely resembles the shape of the plugs Ocelot stretches him out with sometimes, and Kaz feels his heart jump into his throat when he thinks about where he's about to put it. 

"Good," Ocelot praises, intently watching as Kaz's mouth works, a pleased smirk tugging at his lips.

_So good with that mouth_.

His hand comes to rest on the back of Kaz's head, guides his face forward as he pumps the root into his mouth, and then it's delicately withdrawn, a string of saliva breaking away and moistening his lips. Ocelot carefully brushes his gloved thumb over Kaz's bottom lip, wiping away the drool as a parent would with a messy child, then moves behind Kaz, palm smoothing over his backside before his fingers are teasing down the cleft of his ass, spreading his cheeks apart.

Kaz feels the moistened root pressing against his hole, twisting gently as Ocelot works it into him, and a delightful, tingling warmth begins to spread back there. Kaz squirms again and his cock twitches, _god_ , he just wants to be _fucked_ , he's leaking so much that a small puddle is accumulating on the floor between his knees, and the warmth in his hole is gradually building so that he lets out a needy moan. 

"Normally I'd prefer to keep that pretty mouth unobstructed," Ocelot explains impassively, selecting a modest ball gag from the table. "But I think I want to watch you drool all over yourself today."

He comes up behind Kaz and firmly grips his chin, a small, possessive gesture to remind him who's in charge.

"Open," he commands.

Kaz allows the gag to be fitted between his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose as the fastenings are secured at the back of his head. The heat in his hole is growing, spreading inside him, a persistent sensation that has his cock thick and rigid, desperate for any stimulation.

Ocelot circles back in front of him to admire his face, he's so beautifully _helpless_ with his mouth stuffed, only capable of making muffled, keening sounds in the back of his throat. He brushes his thumb along Kaz's cheek, then smooths a stray lock of hair back from his forehead in a manner that might almost be considered affectionate.

"Can you breathe?" he asks, dragging a finger along Kaz's moistened bottom lip.

Kaz blinks at him owlishly and nods. He feels dizzy, his heart is pounding so violently. He's glad he has the restraints to hold him up.

Ocelot straightens and makes a show of removing his scarf, then carefully tucks it in Kaz's hand. "If at any point it gets to be too much, just let go of this."

Kaz nods once, tightening his fingers around the red fabric. Just the softness of it against his palm invokes feelings of safety. The heat in his hole is spreading, becoming ever more intense, and where it was initially a pleasant sensation of static and warmth, it's getting slightly uncomfortable, turning into an insistent burn.

He squirms again, muscles quivering as he watches Ocelot select a thin rattan rod from the table, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets out another soft moan, muted behind his gag. His bottom is smarting considerably from the previous strokes of the crop, and he twitches when he feels the rod come to rest against his stinging flesh, holding his breath as he anticipates the first blow. Ocelot tortures him with a few light taps, then there's the sharp _fwip_ of the rod cutting through the air, landing with a resounding crack against Kaz's backside.

Kaz involuntarily clenches against the first stroke, his hole clamping down around the root nestled inside him, and the whole purpose of the thing becomes instantly clear when the burning inside him flares up into a sharp sting so pronounced that he feels his throat constrict, causing him to choke on his ensuing yelp as tears spring into his eyes. The sensation is intense but not _quite_ unbearable, just unexpected.

"Think you can handle ten?" Ocelot muses quietly, resting the rod just over the first tram line.

Kaz shudders, a tear streaking from the corner of his eye, and he clenches his fist around the scarf in his hand as he tries to will his trembling muscles still, bracing himself for the next stroke. Ocelot teases him with it, taps the rod lightly against the stinging stripe etched into him, torturing him with the anticipation of it. He's starting to wish they hadn't started out with the crop, which seems especially cruel now considering it's arguably the most painful of all the implements Ocelot chooses to punish him with.

"The colonel used to discipline us like this," he mutters, his voice taking on a mildly detached tone. The impassivity of reminiscence. "Said every soldier needed a good figging in order to keep them obedient."

The rod slices through the air again, landing on Kaz's backside with a crack that echoes through the room. He clenches up again, the burn of the cruel little root buried inside him spiking with more intensity and drawing an embarrassing mewl out of him.

Ocelot lines the rod up again, targeting a spot just below the first two lines. Kaz's breath hitches, tensing as he tries to mentally prepare himself, but it's hard to find any modicum of composure when he's sure his asshole is on fire.

"He liked to humiliate us," Ocelot continues, giving Kaz's behind another series of teasing taps. "He'd have us pull our pants down and lay over his knee while the other soldiers watched - he liked an audience, you see - "

The rod swishes through the air again and slices across Kaz's burning backside without warning, he can't stop himself from clenching up, if he could just keep his hole relaxed, it wouldn't be so bad, _god it burns_ -

" - liked to make a show of it, draw it out. He'd spread us apart and push fresh ginger up inside us, and then he'd whip us with his belt. We weren't allowed to make a sound for the first ten strokes - "

_Swish-crack_. Kaz jumps, realizes his face is wet with tears, and he suppresses the urge to turn his head and wipe them away on his shoulder. He struggles to swallow behind his gag, tries to relieve the lump in his throat, but it keeps closing up from the intense burning inside him, and he's drooling a little in his attempt to draw a satisfying breath.

" - and if we did, we'd have to start all over again. The oils in the root deplete after about half an hour, so he always had plenty more ready for immediate insertion if we were in need of... _continuous_ corrective discipline. It was all about breaking us, to make us _agreeable_  - "

_Tap tap tap_. Not even a proper strike, just firm, evenly spaced taps that make Kaz cringe anyway, and the burning in his asshole is so intense that he involuntarily bows his body to escape the touch of the rod, instantly regretting it. Ocelot makes a small grunt in the back of his throat - it's difficult to tell if it's one of understanding or disapproval - and Kaz's heart thumps violently against his rib cage as he feels the rod come to rest just on top of an especially painful stripe. He bites down on the gag, uses it as a tether to some semblance of comfort. He's grateful for it in this moment, even though it's making him drool uncontrollably.

"Doing it while the rest of the men watched ensured it set an example," Ocelot murmurs, and his voice is softer now, having taken on a rare husky tone that seems to travel directly to Kaz's dick. Kaz finds himself instinctively calming, distracted in his rapt attention to Ocelot's words. The burning in his hole subsides only slightly as he relaxes.

_Tap tap tap_.

Kaz's eyes flutter shut and he pants heavily through his nose.

"No one was safe from his punishments, even if we'd done nothing wrong - "

The next stroke is abrupt and unexpected, and especially heavy. It lands right on top of the most painful stripe across the meatiest part of his ass, and Kaz's mind goes white, barely aware of his fingers spasmodically loosening around the scarf in his hand. It burns, god, _it burns_ , his ass is on fire inside and out and he doesn't fucking care that he can't handle it, he just lets the scarf slip out of his hand and onto the floor.

He's vaguely aware of the clatter of the rod hitting the floor. The mild disturbance in the air as Ocelot drops to his knees behind him. Then the infernal little root is promptly extricated from inside him, and the fastenings behind his head are undone, the ball gag gently taken from his mouth. Kaz hangs limply from his restraints, and he rests his moistened face against his shoulder, panting heavily as Ocelot circles around in front of him. He peels off his gloves, begins reaching for the restraints to unfasten them, but Kaz turns into Ocelot's crotch and subtly rubs his face there, either drying away the tears or reflexively seeking comfort.

Ocelot freezes, painfully aware of the tightness in his pants as Kaz nudges his nose in the crease at the apex of his thigh. His heavy panting warms his strained erection, and Ocelot impulsively brings his hand up, where it hovers uncertainly for a couple of seconds, then reluctantly rests it on the back of Kaz's head. His thumb idly smooths back and forth over his hair a couple of times before he stops himself - _no caressing_ \- and he recovers by gently guiding Kaz's head back, then stoops down to retrieve his dropped scarf.

Steadying Kaz's chin in his hand, he silently blots the scarf beneath Kaz's eyes, dries his cheeks, delicately wipes his mouth. Kaz obediently keeps his lips parted for him, leans his face into Ocelot's deliberate movements, his barriers so absolutely broken down that it leaves him deliciously pliable, like a doll, almost.

"I'm going to unfasten your restraints," Ocelot says, keeping his voice as low and impassive as possible. Kaz only nods, keeping his eyes demurely fixed downward.

Ocelot unfastens one cuff, taking hold of Kaz's wrist before it can drop and slowly maneuvers his arm down, then does the same with the other. Kaz immediately pitches forward into Ocelot's chest, trembling and sniffling as Ocelot massages the circulation back into his shoulders, fingers working methodically down to the elbows and back up again. 

Kaz lets himself be hauled upright, attempts to get his feet under him, but his knees are too unreliable and he can't seem to gain purchase on the floor. Ocelot's arms are firm around him, steadying him as he helps him to the bed and deposits him on it.

He fights the instinct to lunge out for Ocelot as he moves away, instead curls in upon himself, recoiling when the blanket rubs against his stinging bottom. The burning in his hole subsided instantly after Ocelot took the ginger out of him, and the immediate relief followed by the subtle, fuzzy warmth left in its wake is gratifyingly pleasant.

It's a little perplexing - just moments ago he was in mind numbing pain, thinking he never wanted anything shoved up inside him again, and then minutes later, his hole feels so pliant, open, ready to be fucked. He feels high and a little drowsy, and then he's vaguely aware of Ocelot standing over him again, insistently pressing something against his lips, the cool touch of water.

"Drink. All of it."

Ocelot's hand comes to rest at the back of his head, and Kaz leans back into it, reflexively drinks as Ocelot pours water down his throat. He chokes a little, gives a couple of wet coughs, and Ocelot's hand is at his throat, soft fingertips massaging his spasming trachea. Kaz tilts his chin back, blissfully closes his eyes, lets it happen. He's too deeply entrenched in that subspace that happens _after_ that he doesn't really care about this tenderness that he'd otherwise reject, isn't too ashamed to respond to it.

Ocelot's fingers slow to a stop, resting softly over his pulse. Kaz slowly opens his eyes, sees Ocelot impassively looking down at him.

"Do you need me to..." Ocelot makes a small gesture toward him.

Kaz looks away and nods.

There's a muted jingle of spurs as Ocelot slides his boots off, and then the mattress shifts gently as Ocelot eases down beside him. Kaz hisses through his teeth, the movement jostling him and exacerbating the sting of the welts on his rear, but then finds himself melting into the heat of Ocelot's proximity. His face finds the hollow where Ocelot's neck meets his collarbone, and he just rests there, strangely associating that scent with _relief_ , the scent of the scarf that was used to dry his face.

He feels like a child almost, chest spasming with sporadic hiccups, interspersed with muffled sniffling. It isn't like he'd never had his boundaries pushed that far. Of course he had. But there was something about being thrown blind into a new kink with little prior knowledge about it, the uncertainty of what to expect, accompanied by total, absolute helplessness and then the thrill of being abruptly relieved of it...the fluctuating emotions, going so quickly from one extreme to the other - it was...taxing.

"Did the colonel really do those things to you?" Kaz asks after a long moment, his voice gruff and hoarse against Ocelot's neck.

This is new. There's never really any talking while Kaz is coming down, always preferring silence until he passes out.

Ocelot swallows, considers how much he wants to indulge. Tselinoyarsk was a weird time in his life. He'd been so young, high off of power he didn't know what to do with, cocksure with that ridiculous delusion of immortality that seems to plague every young male at that age, trying to overcompensate for the instability caused by Volgin's erratic behavior with some grandiose one-upmanship that tended to repeatedly backfire in his face. Reflecting on it now, he almost laughs at how comically exaggerated he'd been back then. Clinging to his infatuation with Snake like a security blanket, the only respite he had from a life spent caught in the middle of warring agendas and an unstable commanding officer who tended to be a lot cleverer than he let on. He was just a kid. He wonders how he came out the other side of that unscathed. And fuck, he technically didn't.

"Yes," Ocelot answers at length, his voice strained.

He's silent for a long moment. He has no intention of expounding on it any further than that. He isn't even entirely sure why he revealed as much as he did while he was punishing Kaz. His mind had slipped somewhere else, he'd gotten lost in the moment. Perhaps trying to draw from his own experiences to get the most out of the session. But revisiting old demons wasn't exactly on the agenda today. Or ever.

Maybe it's the sensation of Kaz's slowing breaths gusting across his neck, or his thickening cock against his hip - it had waned a little during the caning, but now that Kaz is free, relaxed, his erection is returning and painfully persistent - and Ocelot finds some encouragement in this, the words impulsively spilling from his mouth anyway.

"We didn't have a choice," he says distantly. "It wasn't for recreation, it was his form of expressing his dominance. He liked seeing us vulnerable, broken to raw emotion. The punishment only stopped when he was satisfied. When it was over, we were made to turn around and show off the marks he made. He'd bend us over in front of the men, run his fingernails over each stripe, emphasize how those marks belonged to him. How our bodies belonged to him. Canings and whippings were a regular part of being in the GRU. Figging was typically his form of prepping us when he wanted to...use us later. ...Among other things."

Ocelot falls silent again. He doesn't want to talk about the other things. Humiliating, painful things, the recollection of which brings a deep blush to his cheeks when he's alone in the dark, willing himself to sleep. He didn't even want to talk about _this_. He feels his heart pounding at a slightly elevated rate, the tempo of impending panic. He shifts and flexes his shoulder under the pretense of giving Kaz a more comfortable angle to rest his head, but really he just doesn't want him to hear his heartbeat. Doesn't want to give Kaz anything to use against him later.

In reality, Kaz's mind is racing. He doesn't know how to process this information. Ocelot had always been so elusive, rarely ever sharing anything about himself or his past - what little Kaz knows about him was uncovered during his own personal reconnaissance of the man, and even then, it was never anything as personal as this. He recalls something Ocelot mentioned off the cuff one time, back when they first started doing this - ' _I'll never administer anything I haven't personally endured myself'_ or somesuch. In this new context, it has some significant meaning that Kaz can't quite wrap his head around.

Of course Kaz is no stranger to that weird grey area of consent either - Snake sure did have a funny way of expressing affection sometimes, and it often left Kaz feeling fragile and confused on multiple occasions - but thinking back on it, he doesn't think it was ever quite as twisted as what Ocelot just shared. And in this moment, all Kaz can think about is how he forcibly bent this man over his desk - multiple times - as a means of... _expressing his dominance_.

... _Fuck_.

Kaz gasps, can feel his heart in his throat. His quickening pulse seems to be throbbing especially in his abused backside, pulsating in each individual stripe like a branding iron, and he twitches as though he's actually been struck again. He can feel the cane searing into him and this little sound comes out of him, this embarrassing keening sound that isn't quite a whimper, and when Ocelot's arms tighten around him, restraining him against his chest, the spike of panic flares up even more. He feels Ocelot's palm stroking his hair, petting him, it's disturbingly tender and Kaz _hates_ it, this is against their agreed upon terms, and he instinctively struggles against it even though he's not entirely sure he really wants him to let go.

Ocelot's hand comes up to clamp around Kaz's jaw, forcing his face upward. "Miller, _settle down_ ," he says sharply, and there's something so sincere, so cautionary in that rebuking tone that Kaz abruptly stills.

"Open," he commands, squeezing his fingers at the hinges of Kaz's jaw so that he has little choice but to comply.

Kaz makes some feeble whine of protest that gets muffled into Ocelot's mouth - have they ever even kissed before? - and it's possessive, insistent, a little demanding. This is definitely not part of their arrangement. When Ocelot pushes his tongue into his mouth, stifling any residual attempts at protesting, Kaz just gives into it, lets it happen. He's dizzy, weak, too tired and winded to put up a fight, so he relaxes his jaw, lets Ocelot breathe into him. Maybe it feels good, a little bit.

When Ocelot's fingers graze across the searing tram lines on his backside, Kaz loses his mind a little.

It's a soft touch, the faint tickle of moth wings, tracing the stripes almost lovingly, brushing against them with just enough pressure to cause a fleeting amount of pain that leaves a fresh tingle in its wake. Kaz moans into Ocelot's mouth, _fuck it_ , he just wants those touches to continue, his rear is on fire but aching to be touched, and those caresses are somehow deliciously painful and soothing at the same time. He shudders, arches his ass up into Ocelot's palm, grinds his dick against him. His hole feels so open and receptive now, he just wants to be touched back there.

Ocelot seems to be perceptive to this, his fingers creeping into the cleft of his ass, but then he teasingly draws them away. Kaz grunts when Ocelot's mouth breaks away from his, but then Ocelot's fingertips are pressing on his bottom lip, entreating entry into his mouth, and Kaz compulsively opens for him, begins to suck without even being prompted. He slicks his tongue over Ocelot's fingers, massages them in his mouth, makes a bit of a show of it, _Imagine where else I could make use of this mouth_. He has no intention of impressing Ocelot, but his ego is everything, and regardless of who it is, Kaz has some intrinsic need to be _desired_.

Ocelot draws his fingers away, returns them to the cleft of Kaz's ass, gently pries his cheeks apart and begins rubbing his moistened fingertips against his hole. Kaz mewls, plants his face into Ocelot's neck and just grinds back against those fingers probing him, his cock thick and heavy against Ocelot's thigh. He feels one finger slip inside him, gently working its way in and out, and he thrusts back, mouth hanging open, he doesn't care if he drools on Ocelot's neck, fuck, he just needs it, needs something inside him.

"Ginger has some amazing properties," Ocelot muses, and the serenity in his voice as he fucks his finger in and out of Kaz's ass is a comical contrast to the frantic need Kaz feels in this moment. "It's almost unbearable when it's inside you, but there's something about a freshly figged rear that makes it especially receptive to penetration. It's why Volgin used it to prep us."

Another slicked finger pushes into him, and Kaz opens up easily for the new girth. The deliciously gratifying feeling of being stretched suddenly prompts his release, his cock erupting over Ocelot's thigh in pulsating spurts. He grinds it out, almost sobbing against Ocelot's neck as he rides out the aftershocks, and Ocelot merely steadies him, keeps his arm wrapped around him as he feels the damp heat of ejaculate seeping through his pants.

Ocelot is no stranger to the oddly heightened desires and sensations that immediately follow a thorough figging.

Confused and trembling, the tears on his face not yet having had time to dry, he'd puzzled at how needy and humiliatingly desperate he'd been, dick rock hard and not able to understand why, and then Volgin laughing at him, slapping his sore bottom as he crudely joked about _his little kitten in heat_.

He shudders and draws in a shaky breath. Kaz's heavy panting has slowed, his breathing now soft and even against Ocelot's collarbone. It's an exhausting experience, handing control over to someone else like that - truly mind altering - and it's almost obscene how well one sleeps afterwards.

He lifts his hand, idly smooths his palm over Kaz's head. He barely realizes he's doing it, it's an impulse he's found incredibly difficult to suppress. They've broken their rules enough times today, anyway. Kaz's hair is soft, and it's pleasant under his fingers. He finds himself indulging in it, pressing his nose into it, then lets his lips rest just slightly against his forehead. It isn't quite a kiss, as much as the urge strikes him to do it. He settles for resting his chin on top of his head, wraps his arms around him a little more tightly.

It's then that he becomes painfully aware of his own erection, straining insistently inside his pants, and he hastily fumbles with his belt, unfastens his pants and shoves his hand down the front of them. It doesn't take him long. He invokes images of Kaz, broken and on his knees, face nuzzling into his crotch, breath warming his cock, that sweet pliability from him, how easily he could be manipulated with a simple command or gesture, face wet with messy tears, and soon Ocelot is erupting inside his briefs, unconcerned with the inconvenience or discomfort of it. Other than a contained grunt at the back of his throat, his release is silent, and Kaz remains undisturbed on his shoulder.

It's a little unnerving to think about, but the last thing on Ocelot's mind as he dozes off is the amusing realization that this...whatever this is, this... _arrangement_ with Kaz is the closest thing resembling a healthy, reciprocal relationship that he's ever known.

* * *

 

Disoriented and unsure of exactly where he is, Ocelot is later startled out of sleep by Kaz's frantic moans and erratic thrashing beside him. It takes him a few seconds to realize he'd passed out before he could even zip himself back up - technically another rule broken. They'd never officially discussed it, but there was a clear understanding that sleeping together was an option so _not on the table_ that it wasn't even worth a discussion.

Ocelot hesitates - his initial instinct is to vault out of the bed and scamper as far away as possible before Kaz wakes up, but then some small part of him - the part that knows exactly what it's like to feel perpetually exhausted from restless nights of labored sleep - reconsiders. Ocelot zips himself back up, then gently jostles Kaz's shoulder, makes the gesture as nonthreatening as possible so Kaz doesn't wake up to the instinct of punching him in the face, and Kaz calms slightly, mumbles something incoherent except for the last word - _Ronan_.

Ocelot freezes. He recognizes this name, distinctly remembers Kaz mentioning it upon their first meeting. How it unexpectedly threw him off guard that Kaz would ask about this man, giving a name to what was initially nothing more than an expendable soldier to Ocelot at the time, a man whose sole modifier in his eyes was most decidedly _Not Snake_. He remembers seeing something snap within Kaz when he'd promptly told him that the man was dead. Like a light had suddenly faded to black within him. In that moment, it all became distressingly clear what significance this man had to Kazuhira, and Ocelot had realized the depth of the situation he'd just stepped into.

Technically, it hadn't been a lie. And Ocelot thrived on technicality.

Kaz tenses again and abruptly jerks awake, his hand reflexively shooting out and clamping around Ocelot's wrist. He quickly lets go when he realizes there's no genuine threat, only rolls his eyes and turns his face into the pillow.

"What are you still doing here, Ocelot?" he mutters, no attempt at hiding the aggravation in his tone.

Typically, he'd respond with something cutting, mirror Kaz's vitriol. It's what he wants, usually. A confrontation to blow off steam. 

"Kaz..."

Maybe it's the tenderness in his tone, maybe it's the rare use of his first name - Ocelot never addresses him by his first name, not even once since they've met - but Kaz's entire body tenses, and he slowly turns his head so that one eye is peering over the pillow at him. 

He could just say it. He can feel it, ready to roll off his tongue.

_Your medic is alive_.

"Ocelot. _What_." Kaz's patience is waning.

Ocelot recovers quickly. Hardens his face back into that careful mask of stoicism. "Seemed you were having a nightmare. I just wondered if you needed me to stay."

Kaz snorts and turns his face back into the pillow. That surrender of vulnerability is completely gone now. "Of course not. Get out."

Ocelot presses his lips tightly together and gives a curt nod. "Of course."

He slips back into his boots, sweeps his scarf off the floor, pulls Kaz's sunglasses from his pocket and places them crisply on the pillow next to him. Makes sure Kaz can hear the jingle of his spurs with each pronounced step he takes until he's out the door.

They're not friends.

They never will be.

**Author's Note:**

> I'M TIRED OF LOOKING AT THIS THING. I've had it dicking around in my drafts since like March and I originally wasn't going to even work on it again before I finished chapter 3 of Broken Adonis but fuck it. I need this thing out of my head. I've spent way too much time proofreading this thing and if I keep at it, I'll never be satisfied, so hopefully this isn't an incoherent mess. 
> 
> [I am also on tunglr dot com](http://saintambrose.tumblr.com/)


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